A Midwinter Promise

by Lulu Taylor

  ‘Hello! You’re here, fantastic. Let me give you a hand with those. Out the way, Krystal, you idiot, you’ll trip us over. Ignore the dogs, they’re mad.’

  ‘They’re sweet. What are they?’

  ‘Shih tzus. Nutters. That’s Krystal and that’s Alexis.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t ask.’

  They started unloading the boxes. It had rained overnight and everything was damp so they carried them straight inside and put them down in the hall where two large unadorned Christmas trees stood on either side of the staircase.

  ‘Goodness,’ Alex said, looking around. ‘It’s just the same.’

  ‘Yeah, we haven’t changed much.’ Jasper followed her gaze around the large hall with the staircase leading away in the middle. ‘I don’t really know where we’d start. I like it as it is, if I’m honest.’

  ‘No, I mean . . .’ Alex glanced all around, surprised. ‘Everything is still here. The pictures, the furniture. Even the suits of armour. Just the same.’

  ‘Oh yeah, well . . .’ Jasper laughed. ‘Of course.’

  Just then a woman came walking up from the back of the hall, holding a cup of steaming coffee. She was attractive, or would have been if her expression had been less sour. She had a fine-boned face, clear eyes and brown hair pulled messily back into a bun.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

  Alex recognised the flat voice from the last time she’d been here, but said nothing, just stacked the boxes neatly against the wall.

  ‘Hi, Polly,’ Jasper said. ‘I think you met Alex already.’

  ‘Did I?’ Polly looked over without interest. ‘Okay.’

  ‘She’s doing the flower display. Remember? I told you all about it.’

  Polly rolled her eyes. ‘Christ. I can’t believe you’ve been talked into this; I can’t think of anything worse. The sooner I get on a beach the better.’

  Jasper said lightly, ‘Well, some of us are working. Do you think you could make us some coffee while we bring in the boxes?’

  ‘All right.’ Polly looked over to Alex without a spark of interest. ‘How do you like it?’

  ‘Just milk, please.’ She looked down at Polly’s hand where she was holding her cup and saw the glint of a gold band. Married. Oh well.

  ‘Thanks, Pols,’ Jasper said, one of his broad, infectious grins spreading over his face. When Polly had sauntered off down the hall towards the kitchen, he said confidingly, ‘Don’t mind her. She’s a wee bit gloomy at first but she gets better when she knows you.’

  ‘Right,’ Alex said, finding that hard to believe. ‘Shall we get started? I’ve brought some extension plugs for the lights, so we could begin with those. Have you got ladders?’

  ‘Right here, just like I promised.’

  They worked together for an hour, stopping for a few minutes to drink the coffee that Polly delivered wordlessly, and at the end of that, they’d got the lights arranged around the two Christmas trees in the hall.

  ‘Let’s take a break,’ Jasper said, after they’d stood back to admire their handiwork.

  ‘Fun stuff next,’ Alex said cheerfully. ‘Decorating!’

  ‘I want to show you the orangery first.’

  They walked through the house. It was still all so familiar. Despite everything, the house remained essentially itself.

  It’s hard to remember that it isn’t ours anymore. It’s gone forever. I’m only here because I’m invited in.

  That thought was painful. She didn’t want to live here – she loved the Old Barn, and Tawray was far too big for most families in any case – but the old house felt part of her own self, and of her mother. How could she not feel nostalgic for it, even if so many of her memories were bitter ones?

  ‘Oh goodness, this is wonderful!’ Alex said as she followed Jasper into the orangery, which was connected to the main house by a small passageway that opened out into the glass-walled room. It had been thoroughly cleaned, and tables and chairs were set up at intervals. Along each wall were small Christmas trees decorated only with tiny twinkling lights. The furniture looked like rattan, neat and elegant against the faded orange of the terracotta floor tiles.

  ‘It looks amazing,’ Alex breathed. ‘Much better than the major’s efforts! He put palm trees everywhere, along with rusty garden furniture that always wobbled. This is miles better.’

  ‘Glad you like it.’ He looked pleased. ‘I want your garlands up there, where the glass meets the roof. They’ll look fabulous. The cafe furniture is sustainable bamboo and I’ve got chinaware from a local potter – you’ll love it. It’ll all be for sale. The cafe people are setting up this weekend – you should taste their vegan lemon drizzle cake, it’s incredible.’ He caught sight of Alex’s expression. ‘What? Have I said something wrong?’

  ‘No. It’s just that I had no idea you’d take all this so seriously! I mean, you’re going to make it better than it was before.’ She was surprised by the happiness that welled up inside her, to see the orangery looking so good.

  Jasper smiled. ‘I hope so. That’s what I want.’

  ‘Environmental issues mean a lot to you then?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah. I have my reasons. They just sound kind of weird.’

  ‘You can tell me.’ She sat down at the nearest table and looked up at him. ‘I’ve got time.’

  Jasper laughed, but looked awkward. For the first time since she’d met him, he didn’t seem so sure of himself. Slowly he sat down opposite, not meeting her eye. He looked boyish, despite the fact that he must be in his mid-thirties, and uncertain. After a moment, he spoke slowly. ‘I grew up pretty poor in a crappy town just outside Edinburgh, with two younger brothers. It wasn’t great. Our lives were blighted by lots of things, but drink and ignorance and mental illness were all part of it. I wanted to get out so badly. I had a mentor at school who told me I could make something of myself, and through him I got into university to study law. I was going to be a hotshot lawyer and never be poor again. That didn’t happen because I met my mate Stephen, and the two of us set up a university paper with the kind of stuff we wanted to read in it. It was lively, funny, intelligent, unpretentious. It had jokes but it also tackled the difficult stuff from a position of common sense. We weren’t like the ideologues and the political crazies and the soapbox preachers with an agenda. We were straightforward and funny. People loved it. We rolled it out to other universities, like a franchise, funding it by advertising.’ Jasper shook his head as if in disbelief. ‘It just worked. We thought we were geniuses. I was going to be a media tycoon, and I fucking loved it. I chucked in any ideas of law, and Stephen and I set up our business. Great. The sun shone on everything we tried, it just got bigger and bigger. But then . . .’ He stopped and seemed lost in his own thoughts.

  ‘Yes?’ Alex pressed gently.

  ‘I kind of ignored what was going on at home. My dad died of drink. One of my brothers emigrated to Australia. The other, Duncan, stayed at home with Mum. It became obvious that he wasn’t just slow or lazy, but he was never going to be normal. He lived at home with my mum in our old house, even though I offered to buy them something else. They wouldn’t have it. I should have visited more but I was totally caught up in my work and my exciting new life. I had a shit-hot flat in Edinburgh and I put them out of my mind and concentrated on having a good time. I barely slept for five years, flew all over the world, ate and drank and partied and womanised like it was the end of days.’ Jasper’s expression grew harder as if in disapproval of his old self. ‘I had no idea what was going on back home. Later I found out the local kids made my brother’s life hell. They jeered at him, threw stones, tormented him. He was just a bit of amusement for them, but it terrified him, he hated it. He retreated inside the house and became a total recluse.’

  ‘Your poor brother,’ she said.

  ‘I know. I’d ring up and say come and see me. They’d always have a reason why not. When I went back, I’d let Mum talk me into meeting them at a pub or a cafe. I didn’t mind, I
hated that awful house.’ Jasper pulled in a breath and released it on a long, sad sigh. He looked up at Alex with a wry smile. ‘Well, I finally got round to visiting. I didn’t let Mum put me off any longer. I’d been sending her money, plenty of it, so I just assumed she was fine. But she’d coped with the stress of looking after Duncan by shopping – nothing fancy, stuff from the market, the high street, online. But it had got completely out of control. The house was a disaster zone, packed to the gills with stuff. Duncan liked science fiction toys – spaceships and aliens and characters from films – and she’d bought him thousands of them.’ Jasper hesitated. He couldn’t look at Alex now, his gaze fixed on the table, his fingers knotted together. ‘I mean, the house was packed. It was un-fucking-believable. They were climbing over it to get around. Drowning in it.’

  Alex pictured it. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘It took weeks to sort it all out. Mounds and mounds of newspapers and magazines. An avalanche of stuff, some of it never opened or used – clothes, books, dolls, toys, hats, shoes, bottles, furniture, you name it – countless things.’ Jasper shook his head slowly. ‘I realised, of course, that my ma was suffering from a severe psychological condition, most likely as a result of looking after Duncan. I got them both out of there, and got her the support she needed. But something turned in my stomach when I saw that volume of useless objects and the piles and piles of rubbish and litter scarring everything. We chucked away skips full of it. It was one house in one small town in one country, and when I tried to multiply that to fill the world, my mind couldn’t cope. I thought of the slums built on rubbish piles, the rivers and seas thick with it, the great pits of it being buried in the earth, and I felt with all my heart and soul that it had to stop.’

  She nodded, seeing it with him, feeling an echo of what he must have felt.

  ‘I hadn’t really considered it before, how much useless tat there is in the world.’ His eyes burned and he looked suddenly passionate. ‘I don’t care if the system needs us to buy endlessly, if the markets require more and more consumption. It has to stop, Alex! We have to do something about this! That house became a symbol to me of us all, of the world, being buried in that mountain of pointless, useless rubbish.’

  ‘Yes, I see that.’ She was moved by his intensity. It made her feel so angry and helpless when she saw the litter on the beach: the detritus of bottles, cans and packaging; the sloppy, wrinkled mess of abandoned plastic bags. ‘I get it.’

  ‘I wanted to do more. Once Mum and Duncan were sorted out, I decided to sell my part in the company. I already had enough money and I just couldn’t go on with my old life. I needed change.’

  ‘So that’s how you ended up here?’

  He nodded. ‘I wanted to get away somewhere completely new. I saw this place advertised and I thought, maybe that’s the answer. I was burned out, and didn’t realise it. So I’m taking baby steps, you know? Baby steps. While I work it all out, find my purpose.’

  Alex nodded. ‘Yes. I understand. I hope you find it here.’

  He gazed at her, solemn. ‘You don’t mind that I’m doing it here, in your old home?’

  ‘Of course not. I’d love to see this place come alive.’ She looked about. ‘It has its stories, you know, not all of them happy.’

  ‘I hope you’ll tell me about it one day.’ He smiled, looking more like his usual cheerful self. ‘Now, shall we start hanging those beautiful baubles? I really want to see what they look like on the trees.’

  She followed him out of the orangery, realising that he hadn’t told her how Polly fitted into the story, or what she felt about his new start.

  I don’t know him well enough to ask. I’ll just have to wait until he tells me.

  ‘Here we are!’ shouted Johnnie as he pulled the hired van to a halt in front of the rectory.

  Nathan was wide-eyed. ‘Is this really all ours?’ Their house in town occupied a narrow slot in a long terrace of identical properties, all tall and thin to take up as little space as possible.

  ‘Yes, for now,’ Johnnie said.

  Joe was already climbing out of the sliding side door. ‘Come on, let’s go and explore,’ he said, his eyes on the expanse of garden surrounding the house. Nathan followed him. Bertie stayed in his seat, well belted in, and gazed out of the window, making vague chewing noises.

  Johnnie turned to look at Netta. ‘Well?’

  ‘It’s very pretty,’ she said, then turned to look anxiously over her shoulder at the piles of boxes in the van. It had made sense to hire a vehicle big enough to take all the luggage they would need for such a long stay; even so, it was crammed with stuff. ‘We should get unpacked. We’ll make the beds, get Bertie sorted . . .’

  Johnnie put a hand on her arm. ‘Relax. We’ve got plenty of time. It’s going to be okay. We’re on holiday now, both of us. I don’t have anything to do but look after you and the kids.’

  ‘And support your father,’ she reminded him swiftly.

  ‘Of course. But you’re my priority right now.’

  She blinked at him as if doubting the sincerity of what he was saying. ‘All right. But we can’t sit here all day, can we?’

  They got out, and Netta took Bertie inside while Johnnie started unloading, calling to the other two to come and help. By the time the boxes were out of the car, Netta had found the kettle and made everyone tea or squash, and put out biscuits.

  ‘It’s great, isn’t it?’ Johnnie asked, coming in breathless. ‘Do you like it? I’ve sorted out the locks for Bertie’s room, we can put up the temporary cameras later and I’ll get the network going.’

  Netta breathed out slowly. ‘Yes, I do like it.’

  ‘Great.’ Johnnie felt a welling-up of hope. ‘I just want us to take some time out, try and refocus ourselves.’

  Busying herself with wiping down the surfaces, Netta said nothing for a moment, and then she said, ‘You just have to realise that if we slow down and stop being frantic, then we might see things we don’t want to see. You might have to face something unpleasant.’

  ‘I’m prepared for that,’ Johnnie said simply. ‘I want this to work.’

  Since that day on the road, when he’d been inches from death, his mindset had changed. Something about that near miss had made him realise that time was precious and life was fleeting. Alex’s words about Netta’s issues being something he could work on had stayed with him and he had started making a real effort to address them all. He had to save this marriage. The idea of him and Netta separating was dreadful, a world he didn’t want to live in. He had spent too long building this life and this family to have it shattered back into a million pieces. The thought of Joe and Nathan suffering was more than he could stand. Whatever Netta wanted was worth it. But despite his best efforts, he couldn’t seem to break through Netta’s reserve. The chilliness still stood between them, like a brittle, transparent wall of ice.

  ‘Okay.’ Netta turned away. ‘I’d better start unpacking. We’ve got a lot to do.’

  Johnnie walked towards the market square in the town centre, where a local choir was singing carols around the Christmas tree, shops were open for business and everything glittered and sparkled with tinsel and lights.

  We’ll have to get sorted out for Christmas, Johnnie thought. But Netta had probably already done most of it. She usually discussed the children’s presents with him, but she knew what they wanted, and did all the shopping for their extended family. She kept a box that she filled with stocking gifts throughout the year. The cards were written and posted by the start of December, and she usually managed the food and drink situation as well, although Johnnie did the actual cooking on the day. He liked to don the apron and chef’s hat, and play the role of the provider.

  So far so good in the new house.

  Only a day in, but the twins liked the new place and were still giddy with the size of the garden, Bertie seemed settled and Netta was good-humoured, if still somewhat absent.

  But this is weird – walking through town to the p
ub. I haven’t done this since I was about nineteen.

  Alex had called the previous day asking to meet up for a chat. It hadn’t seemed politic to go out on the first night in the new place, but now here he was, striding through the winter darkness to his old haunt, not quite sure if the experience was a pleasant one or not.

  He went into the pub, an old-fashioned place decorated with fishing nets and crab baskets. It was busy inside, the air heavy with the scent of mulled wine. Alex was already at a small table tucked away by the fireplace so he queued up for a drink and then went to join her.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said as he put a glass of mulled wine in front her. ‘I’m driving, though.’ She stood up to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘There won’t be much alcohol in that, it’s mostly apple juice and cinnamon. But don’t drink it if you don’t want it. I got it for the seasonal feel as much as anything.’ He sat down, taking off his coat. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m okay.’ She took a sip of the mulled wine and made a face. ‘Yuck, you’re right. I think I’ll stick with my cup of coffee.’ She sat back to regard Johnnie. ‘Have you been round to Pa’s house today? Only Sally wouldn’t let me in yesterday and she said she’d text me when I could come over. But she hasn’t been in touch.’

  ‘Do you think she’s forgotten?’

  Alex shook her head. ‘That’s not like her.’ She looked worried. ‘My alarm is going off.’

  ‘Ah.’ Johnnie knew it was time to pay attention when Alex’s alarm went off. All their lives, she’d been an excellent barometer of the state of Sally’s moods. When Johnnie was unaware of a change in atmosphere, Alex would warn him that a storm was coming.

  ‘But how do you know?’ he would ask, mystified. ‘It’s like you’re a clairvoyant or something.’